The continuous clinking of cutlery was the only sound echoing in the small cottage.
Reynold, who was eighteen years old, was all smiles as he gently kept the plates on the table.
He whistled and danced as he placed the steaming bowl of soup at the head of the table.
His parents were finally coming home today. They had written him a letter saying they had survived the war and would be back before noon today.
Just then, a rush of air ripped through the yard, followed by the heavy thud of scaled feet outside, making the entire house shake.
Reynold's face broke into a wide smile.
"They're finally back!"
He rushed to the wooden door and his hand was already reaching for the latch, but he froze midway.
Through the small window beside the frame, he saw them.
Two unfamiliar dragons were landing in the yard. They were not his parents' dragons.
Instantly, a cold shiver started to coil in Reynold's gut.
The two riders were in a grey and red uniforms of the Dragon Rider army; they dismounted from their dragon, but there was no sight of his parents.
Where were his parents?
Reynold threw the door fully open.
The two riders didn't have the happy face look of people who had just returned from the war with victory. Instead, they looked sad, their shoulders slumped with every slow step they took toward the house.
Seeing the items folded neatly in their hands, Reynold's breath stopped.
No!
Two Rider Corps uniforms, the two riders were holding one each. They were stained with a deep, rusty red that could only mean one thing.
No!
Reynold shifted back and his hand gripped the door frame tightly, making his knuckles turn white against the doorframe.
He held his breath and his every nerve screamed in denial as the two men started their slow, measured walk toward him.
They stopped before him. The taller of the two, his face filled with a look of condolence, extended the folded uniform.
"We are truly sorry for your loss, son," he said, his voice was a low rumble.
The world seemed to stop for a moment. The letter he received just last night, the promise of a reunion, the delicious soup cooling on the table, something was not right.
"Noooooo..."
A painful, piercing scream left Reynold's throat. The hot, blinding tears finally came, streaming down his cheeks.
He stumbled back, and the uniform fell from the rider's grasp, landing softly on the rough wooden floor.
He looked up at them, his mouth shaking, the words catching in his throat.
"How? Th-they wrote yesterday... said they won..."
The riders shook their heads, their gazes lowered. "We are so sorry, son. They didn't make it.
Reynold's knees buckled, and he fell fully to the floor, pulling the blood-stained uniform close to his chest. His world crumbled into the scent of woodsmoke, old leather, and a devastating loss as he sobbed into the uniform.
The riders watched him for a long moment. Finally, the shorter man reached into his breast pocket and placed a small, polished piece of a wooden medal beside Reynold. He then gave a respectful bow.
"May the Flame guide them," he murmured.
"Amen," the taller one replied.
They turned and walked back to their dragons, mounted, and then, with a heavy beat of wings, vanished into the twilight sky, leaving Reynold utterly alone in the chilling silence.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, just clutching the uniforms.
"Rey?" A soft voice finally broke through the moment of his despair.
He looked up, his eyes swollen and red, and saw Laena. Her blonde braid had come loose, and her face was filled with shock and pity.
Seeing her, the only composure left in him was finally crushed.
"Laena!" he choked out.
She rushed to him, bending to her knees in the dust. She pulled his head to her shoulder, panting him gently as he clung to her, his sobs shaking them both.
.....
Reynold woke up the next morning in his own bed, his head was throbbing with the aftereffects of his devastating grief the night before.
He groaned and pushed himself up.
The room was empty, but he could hear the sound of plates from the kitchen.
He lifted his legs over the side of the bed, his eyes immediately shifting to the small chair in the corner.
His parents' blood-stained uniforms were folded neatly there.
He reached for them, his fingers tracing the rough weave of the fabric. He clenched them tightly for a moment, pressed a tearful kiss to the stained cloth, and then placed them back down.
There was no way their letter could have reached him if they died in that war.
The timing made no sense. Someone was playing a cruel game, and he was going to find out who.
He walked toward the kitchen.
Laena was by the counter, pouring tea. Her shoulders stiffened when Reynold entered.
She turned.
Seeing his face pale, but looking better compared to last night, she gave a small, weary nod.
"I'm glad you're up. Are you... okay?" she asked.
"Thank you for staying," he replied simply.
She nodded and turned her attention back to the teapot, but stopped mid-pour when Reynold spoke again, his voice was flat and firm.
"I'm going to apply to Wyrmwood Academy."
The teapot slipped from Laena's hand and landed onto the counter as Laena turned around, her eyes wide with alarm.
"Rey, I understand you're hurting, but you can't. This is just a reaction. Remember what happened the last time you were selected? You didn't even make it past the first physical selection test. You failed badly."
"I was fifteen then," he argued, and his voice was solid.
"It doesn't matter! The truth is, you're not built for this, Rey. You are weak..." She bit her lower lip, her eyes filling with regret. "I shouldn't have said that. I just…"
"I know perfectly well what you meant, Laena," he cut her off, his voice was flat and final. "Everyone thinks it. But it's fine. I'm going. You won't change my mind."
Seeing that he was very much stubborn, Laena's expression turned into frustration.
With a frustrated hiss, she pulled the kitchen apron from her waist and threw it onto the floor.
"Fine! Then go do what you want!" she snapped. "I was a fool to even think of putting my own admission on hold for a year, just to stay here and watch you heal from the loss!"
She stomped out of the kitchen, and moments later, the front door slammed shut behind her.
Reynold didn't move. He simply stared at the swinging door, his expression was cold and his mind made up.